The Golden Echoes
The ledger lay open on the counter, the paper yellowed and brittle under the weight of Elias Thorne’s thumb, the ink of the final entry smudged into a dark, wet smear that looked less like a number and more like a bruise. He had counted the coins in the tin three times, the clink of metal against metal sounding hollow in the fog-choked air of the apothecary, and the sum remained the same:...
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